


491. lionhearted

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Knights - Freeform, Princes & Princesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Teach me to fight,” says the princess, and Helena nearly drops her sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	491. lionhearted

“Teach me to fight,” says the princess, and Helena nearly drops her sword. Bad Helena, stupid Helena – too busy with court dummies, so much better than tree trunks and people who bleed. Slash, stab, back, forward again. She’d missed the sound of feet on the ground. Stupid Helena. How long will they let her be a knight now.

She drops to her knees fast, so fast they bang hard against the stone of the room. Ducks her head. She thinks she’s supposed to say _my lady_ but if she speaks the princess will hear her accent and she’ll know, that Helena doesn’t belong here, that Helena isn’t supposed to be in this beautiful castle with its carpets and the whole roast pigs on the table.

“God, stop bowing,” says the princess, “up, I – absolve you, whatever, get _up_.” Helena does. The princess is watching her, lazy and amused – hair intricately braided out of her face, grin sharp, eyes brown. Helena would die for her. Helena would kill for her, will kill for her, at some point she will kill someone and this will be for: her. She knows this.

“Sorry,” Helena says, quietly enough that the princess can’t hear her accent.

“Teach me to fight,” says the princess, “and I’ll forgive you.” She crosses the room, skirt rippling around her ankles, finer than any piece of fabric Helena had ever touched before – well. Before. The princess’ fingers land lightly on the hilt of Helena’s sword, still in her hand. Her nails are trimmed short. There aren’t any calluses on her hand. Helena feels, suddenly, that she should have washed her sword.

“No,” Helena says, and hates herself.

“You serious?” says the princess, grinning like she’s met a challenge and is delighted by it. She steps back, circles Helena. Lioness hunting. “Y’know I could have you bloody executed, yeah?”

Helena shrugs a shoulder lopsidedly. She knows.

“So,” says the princess, coming to a stop in front of Helena, “why not?”

“You shouldn’t fight,” Helena whispers, “unless you have to.” She swallows – too late now – and lets her voice get louder. “Your hands are soft. They can always be soft. You have so many people to fight for you. Go back to your books and your harps and let us die for you.”

Her words hang in the air. Helena rubs the hilt of her sword nervously. “My lady,” she adds.

The princess is watching her, frowning. Helena wonders if she’ll be very mad if Helena drops to her knees again. Probably!

“A week ago an assassin broke into my room,” the princess says, out of nowhere. Helena’s hand clenches around the hilt of her sword. The princess’ fingers are twisting together, but her gaze is steady and her chin is high. “He put a knife to my throat,” she says. “Said it was my family’s fault that our kingdom’s such shit. Wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“Took my guard a minute to get in,” she says. Barks a laugh. “Not a figure of speech. Full bloody minute. Sixty seconds. Bloody _knife_ at my—”

She stops talking. Her gaze jolts off to the side. Her hands have clenched into fists, when Helena wasn’t looking. Helena remembers again that she would die for her. She keeps remembering, over and over, a million and one bright little sparks.

“Teach me to fight,” says the princess again, quietly.

Helena swallows, and says: “Okay.”


End file.
